Free After Glow by Jayne Castle Page A

Cornish said. “Sometimes he didn’t get back until damn near dawn.”
    Emmett removed some more cash from his wallet. “Any idea where Maltby went at night?”
    “Sure. He had himself a secret hole-in-the-wall. Went down into the catacombs all by himself to hunt for relics. Didn’t even take a hunter to watch out for ghosts. He was a tangler, a real good one. Worked on plenty of legal excavation teams back when he was a professor at some college. He knew how to find the good pieces and he knew the galleries on Ruin Row that would buy ‘em without askin’ too many questions.”
    “Maltby dealt in illegal antiquities?” Emmett asked.
    Cornish shrugged again. “That was how he paid for his Chartreuse.”
    ----
     

Chapter 7
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    Lydia walked into her small living room and set the milk carton down very carefully on the low table.
    “Poor Maltby.” She kicked off her shoes. “He was no doubt hoping to make a spectacular antiquities find down in the catacombs and use it to try to regain his professional reputation. I know just how he must have felt.”
    Fuzz bounced onto the table and leaned forward to sniff cautiously at the milk carton. He backed away immediately, growling.
    Emmett slung his leather jacket over the back of an armchair. “It would have been incredibly dangerous for Maltby to work alone underground all those years.”
    “The risks have never stopped the ruin rats from going into the catacombs, you know that. Besides, Maltby was an excellent trap tangler and a fine P-A in his day.”
    “Traps aren’t the only hazards down below.” Emmett stood behind the sofa, strong hands lightly braced on the back. He studied the innocent-looking milk carton. “Wonder how he avoided getting fried by a stray ghost all these years.”
    “Everyone knows you can outrun a ghost if necessary,” she reminded him.
    “Only if you see it coming in time and only if it doesn’t corner you.” He showed her a few teeth in a dangerous smile. “Come on, admit it, you fancy, elite academic types need us low-class hunters when you go underground and you know it.”
    She made a face. Tanglers, in general, preferred to play down the dangers of the highly unpredictable energy ghosts primarily because of the long-standing rivalry with ghost-hunters. The relationship between the two types of para-resonators often reverted to a brains-versus-brawn thing.
    Tanglers considered themselves the scholarly, intellectual side of the research teams. They were usually well-educated, multi-degreed, professional para-archaeologists who took pride in their academic status. Hunters, on the other hand, traditionally had no more than Guild training in the techniques of handling ghosts and other safety issues in the catacombs. In short, they were merely bodyguards as far as tanglers were concerned.
    But the truth was that the ghosts, technically known as unstable dissonance energy manifestations or UDEMs, were a serious problem because they appeared at random and with very little warning. It only took the slightest of brushes against the green energy fields to knock you unconscious and land you in an emergency room. A more extensive encounter could kill. Only a person with a natural talent for resonating with the chaotic psi energy that formed ghosts could summon or destroy a UDEM.
    “Okay, okay.” She sank back into the sofa cushions and flung her arms out to the sides along the top. “I’ll agree that ghost-hunters have their uses underground.”
    He leaned slightly over the back of the sofa. She felt his fingers on the nape of her neck. A shiver of awareness went through her.
    “I got the impression somewhere along the line that you find me useful occasionally aboveground as well,” he said softly.
    She hid a smile. “I’ve been testing the old saying about hunters being very good in bed. You make an excellent research subject.”
    “Yeah?” He traced a design on her nape. “Come to any conclusions?”
    “I’m